


But I Was Sure...

by Elli0t



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Choose Your Own Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Terushima Yuuji, Minor Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Past Relationship(s), Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elli0t/pseuds/Elli0t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love with Bokuto Koutarou was not on Akaashi Keiji’s to do list.</p><p>Bokuto is all anyone could ever dream to ask for in a person. But. Akaashi still wants more, he needs more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll give you stars and the moon...

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially a Bokuaka AU of this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIF_9zreHvA
> 
> But! If you don't want spoilers for the first half of the fic, i recommend waiting to listen to it until you get to the phone call split.
> 
> My friend kencaneki was a super big help with this!

Falling in love with Bokuto Koutarou was not on Akaashi Keiji’s to do list.

During high school, he dreamed up grandeur plans of living in a mansion, never being forced to lift a finger. He’d live in a house with three bathrooms too many and a bank account so extensive he’d never have to check it. He would dance with famous movie stars, sweeping them off their feet on the dance floor. Drinking expensive champagne as if it were apple juice, Akaashi would be paraded around by his handsome husband, making flirty eye contact with every person in the room, making everyone wish they were him. He was going to be able to travel to Chile/Germany/Egypt/New Zealand, anywhere he wished, all on a whim.

His life was planned out to a T, all he needed was the man to help make it come true. Bokuto was not this man.

Despite his talent, Bokuto hadn’t gotten any impressive scholarships to college for volleyball. Rather than being sensible, he decided to hold off on school. One year couldn’t hurt, right?

Still, he was wild, passionate, and always happy to please. His laughter alone spiraled Akaashi deeper and deeper into a pit of inescapable adoration.

**4:30 a.m.**

The ring of his cell phone resurrects Akaashi from his cocoon of blankets. He grumbles and smacks his hand down on the nightstand, desperately trying to stop the obnoxious ringing. His eyes have barely opened when he grumbles out a low ‘hello?’ into the receiver.

“Keiji! You’re up!” Bokuto shouts, too enthusiastic for this early in the morning.

Checking the time, Akaashi lets out a groan. “Now I am. What do you want?”

“Come outside and I’ll show you,” he says. There’s a hint of mischief to his voice. “Oh, and wear comfortable shoes.”

Curiosity gets the best of him; Akaashi sheds the body-warmed blankets, thankful he had not stayed up considerably late the night before. What could he possibly mean? Knowing Bokuto, they were probably going to sneak into the old high school gym again, despite the fact that the one at the university Akaashi attended was much nicer.

(“But that’s no fun, Keiji!”)

He was getting too old for this.

The setter slipped out of bed, slipped _into_ a pair of jeans he’d left on the floor and one of his old high school T-shirts. Following orders, he laced up his sneakers as well, and packed a pair of athletic shorts into a small bag. Akaashi sighed, knowing that things couldn’t stay this way forever. Knowing that he needed to eventually move on.

All thoughts of leaving fall out of his ears the moment Akaashi opens the front door of his apartment to see his boyfriend grinning from ear to ear with a smile so genuine. He suddenly remembers why it’s been so hard to disconnect emotionally.

“You’re here!” Bokuto surges forward, capturing Akaashi in a hug that lifts him off the ground by several inches.

(How cute.)

Still in the air, he kisses the top of his forehead, and smiles. “What’s got you so riled up?”

“Am I not allowed to be excited to see my favorite person?”

“At 4 a.m.?” Akaashi laughs sweetly. “No, you aren’t.”

Finally placing him back down on the ground, Bokuto grins and takes his hand, leading him outside. The warmth of him reminds Akaashi of all the stolen glances, all the whispered confessions, all the hushed kisses in storage closets. It reminds him of how hard this is going to be to let go of.

“Where are we going?”

“Shh, it’s a surprise,” he takes one of his fingers and mimes a shushing motion, “but I think you’re going to like it.”

That’s what Akaashi was worried about.

The dark morning air made their silence comfortable as they neared the train tracks. Every squeeze of Bokuto’s hand was one more nail in his coffin; every backward glance forced dull butterflies in Akaashi’s stomach. The sun’s rays were just beginning to peek up from the horizon when Bokuto ran his thumb against the other’s hand and said, “Almost there, follow me.”

Akaashi lightly snorted, “That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time.”

Bokuto smiled back, face lit up brighter than the rising sun. His voice was gentle when he suggested they climb on top of a small shack to the left of the tracks.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Oh, definitely. I’ve come here a thousand times to watch the sun,” he explains, letting go of his hand and climbing up the forgotten ladder to the top of the building.

A thousand times…

Akaashi follows behind, sitting next to him on the flat metal roof, knees barely touching. The view from the top of the shack has them sitting above the trees, and the sunrise is in full view. Pink sky stretches out before them, illuminating all the loose strands of hair on Bokuto’s head. (How beautiful.) Akaashi wants to ask a hundred things. How long have you known about this? How did you find it? Why haven’t you shown me before now?

Why do you care enough to share a moment like this with me?

Without any prompting, Bokuto begins to explain, his eyes lit up with fondness. “I found this place by accident. I was beating myself up for not making it into any good colleges and just started walking one night. It was beautiful after dark, being able to see stars I never had before. I stayed up all night, watching the sky, thinking about everything. And when the sun came back up, I thought about you.”

Akaashi’s heart does somersaults and backflips and gymnastics that would put Olympic gold medalists to shame. He doesn’t deserve him.

Bokuto takes one of Akaashi’s hands in his own and gazes into their palms. “And I brought you here because I wanted you to experience how I feel about you. It’s not really anything special… but I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I-” he chokes out.

Bokuto looks into his boyfriend’s eyes before leaning in to meet his lips. The kiss was gentle and sweet, full of promises. He pulls away and turns his head back to the rising sun. “I want to give you stars, and the moon, and my soul to guide you, and I promise I'll never go. I'll give you hope to make you feel as alive as you make me feel. I'll give you the truth, and a future that's twenty times better than any Hollywood plot. Stay with me, Keiji."

Bokuto is all anyone could ever dream to ask for in a person. But. Akaashi still wants more, he needs more.

He pretends to contemplate, drawing out the silence more than necessary.

One year.

One more year and if his desire for the yachts and diamonds studded watches still remained, he’d leave for good.

“I’m not sure,” he offers. He knew it was cruel, to not leave Bokuto now, when he knew they wouldn’t be together forever. But, he enjoyed this; the early mornings, the lazy kisses, the carefree lifestyle. How Akaashi wishes he could stay in this bubble until the end of time. It makes him feel alive.

His hand slides onto the other’s, and Bokuto gives him a half-smile.

“Let’s be not sure together.”

* * *

**4:30 a.m.**

Akaashi is shaken awake by someone jumping on his bed. The room is still dark, the only light illuminating from the streetlamps outside. He cautiously opens his eyes to be met with a faceful of Bokuto’s smile.

“Are you up yet?” he asks, straddling Akaashi’s stomach. The weight is comfortable, familiar.

“Not if you keep sitting on me like this,” he yawns. He doesn’t know why he still got surprised by these early morning wakeups, especially when he spent the night. Bokuto kisses the tip of his nose before sliding off and onto the floor.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, spreadeagled on the carpet.

“Is it a boyfriend who doesn’t wake me up at 3 a.m.?”

Truthfully, Akaashi loves all the adventures that he and Bokuto go on. Even mundane things like going to the grocery store can be exciting if he’s by his side.

Bokuto sticks his tongue out into the darkness and sits up to cross his arms. “No, and it’s _four_ a.m., not three! Something even better. But, you gotta get up.”

“Do I haaaaaaave toooooooo?” Akaashi jokingly whines.

Bokuto stands up, pulls at the bed’s covers, and whips them off. The setter yelps in surprise and curls into himself to conserve heat, laughing.

“You’re so mean to me,” he says with a smile. Bokuto bends over and without so much of a warning, scoops Akaashi into his arms and lifts him up. He peppers kisses all along his face and neck until Akaashi is a giggling mess. One last kiss lingers on their lips.

“Hey, Keiji?” he asks, his eyelids lowering.

“Yes?”

Bokuto leans in slowly until his mouth presses against Akaashi’s neck with the slightest touch. He inhales deeply, breathing out just enough to prick up the hair on the nape of his neck.

One more inhale and Bokuto blows a messy raspberry into Akaashi’s skin, successfully reducing him to breathless laughter once again.

* * *

 

No cars pass the couple their entire walk. The lamps cast long shadows that bop behind their sources, who hold hands to stave off the morning chill.

Seven minutes into their trip, Akaashi begins to wonder.

“Are we going where I think we’re going?”

Bokuto shoots him a wink and a grin. “Maaaayyyybeeee. Maybe not,” he shrugs.

The buildings and the smell of the air give Akaashi intense deja vu. He’s been in this moment before.

One year ago.

His breath hitches in his throat; not today. Not right now. Akaashi’s been happy, and it’s easy to forget all the things he doesn’t have when Bokuto was making him laugh so hard his stomach hurt. When they stayed up late talking about life. When they kissed so deeply it made his head spin around faster than he thought possible.

But. He couldn’t lie to himself. The man walking next to him could not offer him the finer things in life. There were no galas to attend, no art galleries to dress up for. No champagne to sip, no airplanes to catch. No extra money to blow, no important meetings to skip. No stability. He can’t keep stringing Bokuto along anymore. This has to be the end.

Akaashi’s stomach clenches up, and his eyes threaten to spill over. He fights it all back, he has to make things as easy as possible for his boyfr-, his ex-boyfriend.

They still hold hands all the way to the train tracks. Akaashi still listens to Bokuto’s happy rambling and fakes a smile in all the right places. His brain and his body feel numb as he settles down on the roof of the shack. The rising sun shines down and brushes against his knee just as Bokuto’s fingertips do the same.

“Keiji? Listen,” he starts.

Akaashi steels his face.

“I want to give you stars, and the moon, and endless road trips, and a river between your toes. I'll give you day full of _dreams_ if you stay with me and summers you can’t repeat. I'll give you nights full of passion and days of adventure. Nothing unpleasant, just warm summer rain. Come run away with me," Bokuto positively beams at him.

He can’t. He wants to so badly but, he can’t. There are too many opportunities and experiences that he needs to have that won’t be possible with Bokuto. Without his childhood dream, where would that leave him?

He looks down, unable to meet the other’s gaze.

“Koutarou,” his voice breaks, “I can’t.”

“Hey, _hey_. Please don’t cry, it’s okay!”

Akaashi’s nose tingles as the tears well up in his eyes and drip down his face. He has to do this.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was way too fast. Forgive me?” he backpedals, gently placing his hand over Akaashi’s.

He rips his hand away like it’s been burned. “I can’t ever. This isn’t how I want things to be. We can’t…”

Bokuto goes uncharacteristically quiet. He stares at the ground trying to make sense of it all. Everything seemed so perfect, for once.

“Does this mean…?”

Akaashi nods, not able to say the words out loud.

“Oh.” A heavy weight settles over Bokuto’s body. All he wants is to hold Akaashi in his arms and whisper into his ear all the ways he’ll fix whatever is wrong.

“I need time to think,” he whispers. Akaashi turns and climbs down the wooden ladder, refusing to look the other in the eye. He heads home without another word, and Bokuto doesn’t dare try to stop him.

He returns to Akaashi’s apartment an hour later to find his overnight bag sitting in front of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first part! 
> 
> I'm thinking of splitting this into 3-4 chapters. Of course, I'll post the alternate endings both at the same time.


	2. I met a man...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such the long wait! I'm determined to finish this.

Akaashi unlocks his phone and instinctively navigates to his conversation with Bokuto. The last message was sent by Akaashi, a simple ‘Happy New Year’ in reply to the same text from his ex-boyfriend. The messages prior are polite echoes of the same pleasantries. 

‘Happy Birthday’

‘Thanks’

‘Happy Birthday’

‘Thanks’

‘Merry Christmas’

‘Merry Christmas’

‘Happy New Year’

‘Happy New Year’

He can’t stand it. There is no reason for him to keep checking his phone for an unexpected message. Well, there was that one time when he managed to catch Bokuto typing something, but no text ever followed. 

Akaashi is the one who broke off the relationship, so why is he being torn apart like this?

* * *

_ One week after the break up, Bokuto hasn’t messaged him once. He’s beginning to become restless. The silence was nice at first, but now? He craves to feel Bokuto’s calloused palms running over his body, to hear his voice cut through the thick air, only to make it thicker, to see his bright eyes meet his, blown out with lust. _

_ Or, to even see him at all. He knows they won’t work out romantically, or that they might work out too well. Thoughts like these are dangerous, better to nip them in the bud. He pushes down the need to hear Bokuto’s too loud laughter bubbling into his ears again.  _

_ As he opens the front door to check the mail, he nearly crushes something sitting on his doorstep.  _

_ A bouquet of flowers.  _

_ Zinnias. _

_ Akaashi almost steps on them on purpose, but decides to pick them up and read the note first. He recognizes the messy handwriting immediately.  _

_ “ _ Park, Friday at 6? I just want to talk.” 

_ Like hell. He throws the flowers in the dumpster without another thought. Fuck Bokuto and his cute gestures!! He can live without him.  _

* * *

Four years later and Akaashi finds himself wondering what his ex is up to. He’s 22 and still hung up on something he should have long gotten over. Sometimes life is like that.

He tosses his phone off the bed and clutches his comforter, letting out a muffled groan. Everything in his life is too...mediocre. He found an okay job out of college. He still lives in the same okay apartment. He eats okay food. He has okay one night stands with random strangers he meets in bars. They always smell like stale alcohol and bad breath. They never know how to touch him like Bokut- 

He cuts the thought off before the train can even leave the station. 

Akaashi sighs deeply and wipes his hands down his face, preparing to meet the day. He needs to buy some groceries for tonight’s dinner, and maybe some alcohol? 

No, not again. He seems to be having a lot of bad ideas recently. It’s even worse when he remembers that he did this to himself. Instead of coming home every day to someone he loved, it’s just a cold empty apartment. All the laughs he’s missed out on, all the potential stories, all the kisses. 

Every time he gets like this, his fingers itch to press the ‘call’ button under Bokuto’s contact name. The more days pass, the harder it becomes to resist. 

How the hell did he wind up in this mess?

* * *

_ Akaashi ignored the voicemails; deleted them the moment they showed up in his inbox. Eventually, they stopped coming, just like the bouquets of Zinnias, just like the texts pleading Akaashi to let him know he was okay. _

_ Those were the hardest to ignore. How could he sit by and watch while the person he cared for more than anyone worried himself to death over someone like him?  _

_ But, he did it. Anything that was necessary to remove Bokuto from his mind. The picture of the two of them after they had won a big match was tucked away into a drawer. Or… it was tearfully shoved in there once Akaashi couldn’t stand waking up to it every single morning anymore.  _

_ 6 months later and Bokuto was completely erased from his life. Almost. _

* * *

The need for physical human contact sits like a lead weight in his chest. Forget the money; Akaashi needs to get fucked so hard he can’t walk. So hard he forgets about his unfulfilling life, his loneliness, how much he’s messed up. The need crawls under his skin like a parasite.

He doesn’t have work today, but it’s only noon, so it’s much too early to lurk in a bar. Akaashi heaves himself out of bed and puts on his glasses, not feeling up to his contacts today. 

He waters the small Begonia plant from his mother on the windowsill. 

He walks to the kitchen and finds only bread to eat.

He sits in silence as he waits for his toast to cook. 

He rests his head in his hands and groans. 

Is he really lonely enough to get a cat? He always had thought they would be nice to have around. But, then he would have to clean up their litter boxes and worry about them staining his carpet and what if they got into trouble while he was at work? Okay, so no cats. Maybe a dog, or a fish? Obviously the whole “Find a Boyfriend™” thing isn’t going too well. To Akaashi’s credit, he is still trying. 

The grocery store is uneventful as usual; filled to the brim with anxious thoughts about possibly seeing one of his old teammates. He hardly kept in touch with any of them for very long after graduation. Chances are if they see him, they might think he’s still dating Bokuto. If not, they’d give him an annoying look of pity. He prefers to not deal with the trouble. 

Akaashi realizes that he had forgotten his toast in the toaster when he sets his haul of groceries onto the counter. Lovely. 

He turns on the stove, beginning to throw ingredients in to start his stirfry. 

It’s the same as every other stirfry he’s ever cooked. 

After five hours of switching between scrolling through his social media accounts and idly reading a book about two intermingled summer romances, Akaashi huffs. How much more of his life was he going to spend wasting away on his couch alone? He bookmarks the page he was reading and lifts himself to his feet. He is going out. 

* * *

_ Two years after the breakup, Akaashi is stuck in another phase of denial. It’s not like he needs that energetic weirdo anyway. It’s not like he had made his heart beat out of his chest whenever he caught him staring, or that Akaashi swore he could still taste Bokuto in his mouth if he thought hard enough, or that he still hadn’t donated the sleep shirts that had been left at his apartment years ago. Nope. Not at all. _

_ One of those leftover shirts catches Akaashi’s eye as he searches through his closet for something for the man currently laying blissed out naked in his bed. They’d met at the bar, and while Akaashi was mostly there to drink, having sex with strangers was just another way to keep the sobriety away.  _

_ What was his name again? _

_ Teru-something.  _

_ The most memorable thing about him is that he’s good with his mouth. Akaashi considers asking him to stay for another night before they head to bed but decides against it. He can’t risk getting attached, at least not to someone like him.  _

_ The shirt in question featured an owl wearing a white wig and holding a gavel. The text below read: ‘Owl be the judge of that!”  _

_ Akaashi brushed it with his fingers, not daring to do more than that in fear that it still smelled like Bokuto. The bittersweet smile that crosses his face is interrupted by his ringtone. At this hour? He settles on the closest shirt to his other hand and tosses it to his bedfellow.  _

_ “Hello?” He tries not to sound exasperated but he swears to god that if he has to come into work at now of all times…  _

_ The dead air lingers for a few seconds before it’s replaced with a hesitant voice.  _

_ “Uhm, Akaashi?”  _

_ Fuck.  _

_ He almost hangs up, but he doesn’t know the next time an opportunity like this will come up. Teru-whatever is giving him a strange look, but Akaashi just turns to face the other way. He clears his throat.  _

_ “Yes?”  _

_ “I’m sorry to have called you I just… I needed to hear your voice.” Bokuto sounds raspy, as if he’d been recently crying.  _

_ “Oh.” He has so many words to say, but none of them are coming out. He wants to say he misses him, he thinks about him almost everyday. He doesn’t. _

_ “I know that we can’t be how we used to but? I don’t care what kind of relationship we have, I just. I want you in my life, dammit. I still think about-” The voice cuts off. An increasingly loud and angry voice is heard on the other end.  _

_ “...not allowed on the phone when you’re sad!” _

_ The call disconnects.  _

_ Akaashi sets the phone down; he’s numb all over.  _

_ Teru shoots him a quizzical look from the bed, wordlessly opening his arms for the other to climb into. Akaashi flicks the lights off and lays down next to him, facing away. He feels warm arms wrap around his frame, but they don’t stop the silent tears that drip from his eyes.  _

 


End file.
